Front Page Worthy
by grisly blanco
Summary: He's an average adult, who lives in an average apartment in which the landlord forgets to pay the bills, and slaves away for a less-than-average job that may just give his average life some meaning. — Naruto-centric. Naruto, Ino


**Title**: Front Page Worthy  
><strong>Summary<strong>: He's an average adult, who lives in an average apartment in which the landlord forgets to pay the bills, and slaves away for a less-than-average job that may just give his average life some meaning.  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Naruto x Ino  
><strong>Type<strong>: On-going  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T/M-ish (for language, mostly)  
><strong>Genre<strong>: AU, romance, (crude) humor, slice-of-life/coming-of-age type of thing  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I do not own Naruto.  
><strong>Author's note<strong>: This is my take on Naruto in an AU-setting, in which he isn't the perfect, likable, renowned guy and everybody are normal nobodies, just like everyone else. Enjoy.

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><p><em>Uzumaki Naruto, I believe a shower is in order<em>, he thinks as he stares at his reflection in the mirror. His hand tugs at the tip of his blond hairs, and through the strands he feels the greasy moisture on his fingertips. He hasn't showered in two days—it's due to the sheer unwillingness he has in not removing himself from his worn, uncomfortable bed—and it's starting to show. The very few, odd cat-like whiskers on each of his cheeks are beginning to grow again. (Even at twenty-one, he yearns for even the faintest hair on his chin to make him appear manlier.) His underarms probably hold a bad odor that can even have a girl deftly avoiding his 'yawn-and-lift-arm-while-cleverly-placing-around-shoulder' trick and ditching him for the far more handsome son of a bitch two rows over in a theater.

Damn. He still can't get over that.

With a resigned slump of his shoulders, he places his towel on the toilet seat and turns on the faucet. His nude body is immediately assaulted by cold water that stings his skin and makes his balls shiver in protest.

_Sorry boys. Nagayama-san didn't pay the bill again, the unreliable bastard._

When he first moved in a year ago, there was way more wrong than just the cold showers and bad heating. The one-room apartment itself was an unpleasant sight, and hasn't improved since. Furniture is worn and falling apart, with portions missing that may have been removed by force and incredible use of teeth; floorboards creak with every step; walls with deteriorating wallpaper (which is a horrid floral); a showerhead that releases a mysterious thick, brown liquid before its ice-fucking-water punishes him, relieving him of morning wood; and a small, lone twin-size bed that bear the words "Kazehaya & Meiko: cool cats forever in love, '89" carved onto the headboard.

Naruto smirks softly at the thought. He sometimes wonders what may have happened to the couple. Are they still alive, somewhere, still in love? Or was it written when they were already old and graying, and welcoming death as they held each other in their arms in bed? The idea is beautifully morbid at best, but it's one that sticks to him, though it's likely to be unrealistic. Maybe they were young adults, who took things too fast in moving into a one-bedroom that offered little but settled for it, anyway. Yet, they found love, and if they were able to find love in a shithole like his, it sparks hope within him that maybe he'll find a beautiful something in a world so ugly.

He considered moving out of his way-too-shabby apartment. However, he isn't exactly a man with money, nor is he good with any. His place is cheaper than most apartments in the surrounding area and closer, transportation-convenient to the community college he attends. Well, _attended_. He dropped out after the first semester, and while he's under no obligation to remain in an apartment with horrible living conditions, he can now look for something better. But—and he's deliberated this before—he reasons that he won't find "better" unless he betters himself, somehow.

It's been a year and he's yet to figure out just how he'll get there, with his minimum-wage job (that barely pays rent and food, leading him to rely on dollar-cup noodles) of being a paperboy, and prolonging the day he returns to school, to ask himself, yet again, "Why am I here?" He isn't exactly any _good _at something and just as everyone who isn't, they pursue a career in being lousy, scamming businessmen or nurses treating patients they don't even care about.

Are those really the only options? Accepting a job that will do little in defining him? Then again, in today's world, one can't be picky with the few "opportunities" given. Naruto lives in a world so cruel and unfair to those most deserving of all things good. If one doesn't have money, then he, as a person, is worth nothing. The world's built upon money; it relies on paper and processed metal. Money pays for an education, which determines a career that can be beneficial in terms of financial stability _and_ happiness, or a career that just...pays the bills, and will do so, until death.

_Like working in a cubicle_. He pulls a disgusted face, and then shivers as he realizes he's been standing underneath the showerhead for far too long. To avoid catching hypothermia and dying in a less beautiful and just plain embarrassing way in his tub—he should make a mental note to carve his name on every furniture piece, just in case—he turns off the faucet and steps out of the tub onto the yellowing tile floor.

"F-Fucking cold! Fuck you, Nagayama!" Because cursing his landlord for having added tiled over carpet flooring is a much bigger issue than forgetting to pay the water bill, and he has every right, damn it.

Naruto swipes his hand over the foggy mirror and stares at his reflection once more. Much cleaner now, not that it matters. His job doesn't require meeting customers face-to-face. He only delivers their newspaper, carefully flinging said wrapped paper so that it may land on their porch. Apparently, there were complaints when it was dropped off on their lawn instead ('cause it's _such_ a long fucking walk), and boy, did he get an earful from his boss.

Oh yeah, his boss? He's severely overweight and sweats so much (even during winter) that his toupee slides off his head. The sweat seeps through his dress shirt and blazer, leaving noticeable stains when he doesn't wear anything dark. He's shouting and angry most of the time, due to his obvious non-existing sex life.

"Can't blame him," Naruto snorts, throwing on a white t-shirt. "I don't even have one."

As he steps into some old fading jeans, he thinks about his long-time crush, Haruno Sakura. He sighs dreamily. Sakura, with her perfect smile, smooth skin, emerald eyes, and short, glossy, pink hair. Sakura, who he hasn't seen in over a year, but the last he heard of her, she was entering nursing school. Beautiful and smart, she can be the perfect girlfriend.

However, every perfect girl fell for the equally perfect guy. Naruto was always (resentfully) aware of her feelings toward Uchiha Sasuke, a bastard of a friend who he hasn't seen in so long, also. The Uchiha is on the other side of the city, somewhere, probably doing better than him. Sasuke would always do better—Naruto is painfully aware of this, too.

"Shit, it's chilly." His thoughts are momentarily broken once he pokes his head out the window. Donning his favorite orange sweater, he slips his feet into his sneakers and leaves his apartment.

Sasuke and Sakura won't leave his mind as he rides down the street on his bike to pick up papers for his daily route. What will they think, if they are to know how he's living at the moment, earning low income from a lowly job? If he doesn't find a second job, then he won't definitely be able to pay the rent this month. To top it off, he doesn't even have a car, or pet.

_I can't face them. Not now._

Not until he's gained happiness.

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><p>The route he's been assigned since day one on the job runs a few miles, consisting of twists and turns down neighborhoods to busy intersections. He delivers to quite a bit of people—thirty-five, he's counted—who he assumes to be old, as he can't think of anyone younger than forty to even bother with newspaper, what with fancy smartphones, laptops with internet-access, and television with cable. Y'know, old-fashioned people who don't believe in technology.<p>

Out of the thirty-five people he delivers to, he's only seen three faces. One is of a middle-aged man, who sits, asleep, on a rocking chair on his front porch every time Naruto passes by. A beer bottle always rests on his knee, with his palm wrapped around it. He is a big, muscled man, and Naruto is sure that if the man stands beside him, he will be a good foot taller.

The second is an elderly woman a few blocks over. She's usually at her front door, waiting for his delivery, only returning inside after fumbling for the newspaper on the porch floor before picking it up. It's kind of creepy. He's never sure if she's looking directly at him, or past him.

Naruto has to ride into the city to deliver to one building during his route, and that building is a fancy, high-end hotel. He's no fucking idea what rich fucker wants to read a newspaper. Doesn't the hotel have cable, wi-fi? Is that what rich people do nowadays—sit on their leather couch, sip expensive tea and skim through the newspaper with their pinky up? Though he's never seen the person, he's sure the bellhop waiting for him at the front entrance is the one who brought it to the person in question.

Frustrated with the upper-class, Naruto hurls the newspaper at the bellhop, hearing a faint _oof! _before speeding off.

He's now down to one newspaper, and when he approaches his last destination, he comes to a halt before digging into his duffel bag, retrieving the paper, and tossing it onto the front porch of the small, yellow house.

As he makes move to leave, his foot backpedals and the chain on his bike falls off.

"Fuck! Not again!" he groans, swinging his leg around the bike. He thrusts the kickstand out with the front of his sneaker, and leaning the bike's weight onto it, he leans down to inspect the chain. "Looks like I need a tune up," he sighs, scratching at his armpits. A cool sweat is forming underneath his arms and back, and it's beginning to annoy him. "Hmm...maybe if I can just..."

Faint footsteps brings his attention behind him to the yellow house. He looks up, and drops the chain.

It's a woman about his age, with platinum-blonde hair held up in a high pony-tail and bright blue eyes She's dressed in dark blue jeans and a red, silky long-sleeve that hangs loosely around her neck, sliding off one shoulder to reveal pale, white skin that doesn't match her face. Maybe it's all that blush.

She descends the front steps and walks toward him. She's barefoot, in this chilly weather. In her hand is the paper. Her face bears the expression of someone cool and composed, and the mature impression she presents, coupled with her beauty, makes him all the more attracted to her.

He's sure he's sweating more than his boss does on a hot, summer day. Naruto clears his throat, and finally opens his mouth. "H-Hi. I'm—"

"What the hell are you doing on my front lawn, you creep."

There's a mother watching over her two small daughters playing dolls next door, but all immediately still upon hearing this crazed girl's statement. And here he is, standing before this blonde devil, mouth agape, refraining from poking at the inside of his ear to rid it of the uncomfortable ringing her high-pitched, bitchy voice caused.

Before she can shout more false allegations about his person, Naruto shuts his mouth, turns on his heel, and runs off with his bike beside him.

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><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: And that's a wrap. Stay tuned, folks.


End file.
